


The Man's Too Strong

by MrBalkanophile



Series: Matthews High [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-29
Updated: 2010-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrBalkanophile/pseuds/MrBalkanophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best student of the fourth year at Matthews High got injured. His History teacher got a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man's Too Strong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [great_whatsit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_whatsit/gifts).



> First of a planned series in the same verse. For Martha's eyes. ♥

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. No money. Fantasy. Lies everywhere.  


  
  
(banner by [miss_hale](http://heureux_hasard.livejournal.com))

  


##### Matthews High

###### 1x01: The Man's Too Strong

«… so, most of the minor States and the Nations spread in multiple States, as Polish, Italian and German people, felt their spirits of freedom had been betrayed by the Congress.» The school-bell’s ring burst in on the ongoing lesson and almost all the students sighed with relief at the thought that P.E. was their last lesson of the day. «Okay, boys, keep quiet for a sec» Mr Panucci said, raising his hands and cutting down the loud, idle chatter to a continuous whisper. «I want you to study Chapter Eight for next Monday…»

«A _whole_ chapter, sir?» a voice in the very back on the classroom groaned with a sort of desperation, and everyone but Mr Panucci burst into a loud laughter. «You never assigned so much homework, how are we supposed to study… _thirty pages_ of Austria and Prussia and Russia exchanging the country stickers for their albums? In three days?»

«This is going to ruin all our weekend plans» someone else said. «Sir, _please_ -»

«You have until Monday,» Panucci insisted, «because you’ll have the last test for this term next week.» He waited for roaring complaints to cease before he continued. «So, Diego, I hope your _weekend plans_ consisted in studying History. As for you, Mario,» he said, pointing to the dark-skinned boy sitting on the last desk, his back leant against the wall, «try and study a little more than you did on your last test. I’m never happy to assign D’s, but I’ll do it _again_ if you- Boys, right there, stop quarrelling! Don’t even dare to slap your companions again, or I’ll report you immediately to the Headmaster!»

Andrea grumbled but said nothing, while his desk mate, Diego, was still holding his aching head. Soon after, Mr Guardiola knocked at the classroom’s door and entered without waiting for the answer.

«I’m sorry, Christian, I didn’t know you were still here. Do you need some more time?»

«No apologizes, Pep, I’m done here» Panucci answered, and Guardiola replied with a feeble smile of his. «Chapter Eight. Deadline and trimester test next Monday. Have a nice weekend,» he said, ignoring his students’ mutterings while, one after the other, they gathered up outside the classroom for their P.E. lesson; he could clearly hear Santon scolding Balotelli for being so disrespectful when they were still at their desk, and offering his help to Mario ten yards farther from it. Panucci stared after Guardiola taking all of them to the gym – Andrea and Diego still pouting – but when he came back into the classroom he noticed that Paloschi was still in his seat, packing his schoolbag very slowly.

«Still here, Alberto? Why didn’t you follow Mr Guardiola?»

«I’m exempt until the end of the month, sir» he answered with a polite, yet sad smile, stroking his knee in an absent-minded way. «I got injured in our last football game against the _Bundesschule_ , and my sore knee needs three weeks more to recover promptly.»

«I’m sincerely sorry. So, have you got a license so you can leave lessons earlier?»

Alberto shook his head. «Headmaster said there’s no reason to give me one, so I’ll spend these two hours in the library.»

Panucci glanced at the boy, frowning, before turning his eyes to his still unpacked briefcase. Paloschi was by far one of the most clever students in his year, and he always achieved the best marks in his subject – the upcoming test, Panucci was sure of it, would have been a mere formality for him, after the two A- grades in the first term tests. Still, Headmaster Platini hadn’t granted a license to such an excellent student like him. _I would have signed it without a second thought_ , he said to himself.

«Ehm… I’m going, sir. Have a nice weekend.» Panucci noticed the stiff movement of Alberto’s leg and a strange feeling knotted his throat.

«Wait a sec, Alberto.» He stuffed his books, phone and class register into the briefcase as fast as he could. «I’m going with you upstairs in the library. If you don’t mind, of course.»

«Oh,» Alberto answered. «Oh. Well. Yes, sure, you’re welcome, sir» he babbled slightly, grateful that Panucci was walking slower, keeping his pace.

 

~

 

Sir Stanley Matthews High School’s library was very far from the equivalent ones in public or private European schools: it was a great open-space which occupied most of the third floor of the building, with wide glass windows running along the outer wall in front of the sliding doors and thin, white linen curtains screening the direct sunlight. Wooden bookshelves were set against the inner wall and more of them were disposed in the middle of the hall in a circular shape, providing a satisfying knowledge compendium for students; twelve personal computers between the bookshelves helped them with their researches.

Any student could borrow up to three books at a time, free of charge and for the set time of two weeks; the exquisite Liberty-style of the library and its perfect blend of steel, fine woods and glasses, the high availability of the most desired and useful books and the (unusual, even for an excellency-only private high school) accuracy of the students and library staff – mostly they were students from the nearby R. F. C. Moore Institute for Higher Learning, earning some free cash and credits while working part-time in the two free-of-lessons afternoons – made the library working full time with little to no troubles.  
Many smaller rooms opened from the inner hall, providing different services for students and employees: four sound-proof rooms granted the wished silence for people looking for a restful, yet profitable study session; four wider rooms were outfitted for study groups who didn’t mind a bit of noise, encouraging the moments of dialogue, discussion and sharing; the last four rooms, two on each side of the library’s entrance, were reserved to the teaching staff. As Alberto had never broken any rules in three and a half years, not even by chance – Balotelli often remarked he should be a little more ‘pal’, as his surname suggested, and cover for them instead of taking the teachers’ side in every circumstance –  he hadn’t visited the teachers’ restrooms; Panucci held his hand on Alberto’s shoulder while he slid the magnetic card into the proper slot on the second room to the left, guiding him to the little lounge: the boy couldn’t stop looking at the exquisite furniture and the translucent ceiling.

«Wow» Alberto whispered, turning around every time he noticed another detail of the fine decor.

«You seem very surprised.»

«Students aren’t supposed to sneak in the teachers’ lounges, sir» he retorted, slightly offended. Panucci addressed him with a grin.

«Did you never sneak inside? Even once? You’re the closest student to holiness, if I’m allowed to say so.» He gestured towards a fine bureau. «You can study there, if you wish – or you can relax on the sofa instead. There’s a little TV color behind the sliding panel.»

The door slammed itself with a sharp noise, making Alberto jump on his feet and look back nervously – as he thought  he shouldn’t be there even with Mr Panucci’s permission.

«Ignore the door. It opens from inside only, to prevent people _who aren’t supposed to be here_ to enter.»

«What if some other teacher comes here, though, sir?» Alberto said, frowning a little; apparently, Panucci found his shyness (which he always appreciated and liked, especially – but not only – during lessons) amusing, because he started laughing openly.

«Lounges aren’t motel rooms, Alberto. If I’m in, no one can enter, except if I open the door by myself.»  
Somewhat reassured, but still nervous at the opportunity of being alone with his History teacher for more than an hour, Alberto took his books and notebook and sat at the bureau; soon, he was summarizing Chapters Five and Six from his History book, pleased with the magnificent silence of the lounge, broken by the regular breathing of his teacher who was slightly asleep on the smaller of the two couches. Alberto found himself turning his head and glancing at Panucci a bit more often than he would have done if the man were awake, every time a second longer than before.

 

~

 

Alberto finished his summary for Chapter Seven soon after, his hand shaking more and more as he added more lines to the little paragraphs he wrote about the main topics of the Napoleonic wars. He closed the notebook and took his History book with him to the large, velvety sofa at a right angle with the man’s one, opening it again at the wrong page. Panucci wore no tie on his shirt that morning and Alberto could see that bit of still tanned skin peeping out of the white, fine fabric even better than in classroom, where Alberto had to pay attention to the lesson; the shirt let him guess the lines of Panucci’s wide chest and strong arms, as much as his dark, classical, unmistakably Italian-made trousers gave Alberto no clues about what they were hiding, making his mind go at full throttle.

Studying in an all-male institute – and, as his case included a full scholarship, _living_ 24/7 there – led an above average students rate to live their bisexuality, or homosexuality, in a more or less open way, even if Alberto preferred to hide his insecure feelings behind an already well-known veil of shyness. Alberto fantasized about his teachers many times, since he had first discovered his sex drives; yet, he wasn’t completely sure about his orientation. True, he got easily excited with the right porn movies (even if students couldn’t access to the Internet without authenticating to the main server, DVD underground exchange had always been flourishing, especially among the last three years’ students), preferably the next-door girls genre. But nothing turned Alberto on as much as the images of his fantasies: he often figured himself shirtless, tightly held in Mr de Araújo’s arms, or under the shower, naked under Mr Guardiola’s interested gaze, or even scolded by Mr Panucci for a terrible test and then unwillingly kissed by him on the lips (having plenty of good-looking men teaching in his courses, as a matter of fact, did actually help his fantasies grow stronger). Alberto knew these dreams were way more innocent than the mildest of the average desires whispered by his classmates, as if he feared that even fantasies would have been a rules violation; and yet, strong shivers of pleasure shook him every time he touched himself with those vivid images in his mind.

With much effort, Alberto averted his eyes from his teacher’s thighs, looking back to his arms and chest – stopping there again, – and then to his barely wet lips, slightly opened as he snored gently. But then, Panucci suddenly woke up, looking at him almost immediately, and Alberto could not fake and pretend he was gazing at anything else in the room; he blushed brightly outright, looking down to the book on his knees and flipping back the pages as he spotted Queen Victoria’s miniature.

«So I wasn’t wrong» Panucci said, quietly. Alberto looked at him for a second and then took his eyes off the man’s ones at once, still burning from panicked shame. «Come on, Alberto. Did you really think you were the _first_?»

«The first… what? I’m not gay, sir. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m sorry» he babbled, crumpling the corner of the page currently open.

«I wasn’t talking about your attraction to men. Probably half of the students had, have or would have gay sex – did you ever notice there _isn’t_ a rule forbidding it? You cannot make out during lessons, in the library or in the halls, but that’s all. We know it _can_ happen, it’s fine.» Panucci shook his head, smiling in an even more luscious way that Alberto could even imagine. «I was talking about your attraction towards _me_.»

Alberto closed his eyes, then opened them again, slowly: he considered upon lying, but it would have been a behavior so very distant from his habits he couldn’t even try to do it. «I won’t say it for anything, sir. And there _are_ rules forbidding it, so-» he started saying, but he blushed again and didn’t finish the sentence.

Panucci sat up and tapped his hand beside him, inviting Alberto to join him on his couch, but when he understood that Alberto would not sit down at his side, he stood up and did the opposite, putting his arm over Alberto’s shoulder. «You’re right,» he said softly, apparently ignoring the shivers his voice caused to Alberto, «even if there isn’t a strict rule against it, you’d fall out of favour, even risking your scholarship, and I’d be in trouble… maybe I’d lose my job here or, well, I could be arrested for sexual harassment on a teen.» Panucci approached his ear and whispered naughtily: «Having said so, I won’t put up resistance, if you kiss me now and here.»

« _What?!»_ Alberto shouted, starting in fear as his teacher let his shoulder go.

«Kiss me» the man smiled, staring at his face full of shock. «I can’t believe you’re too shy even for this.»

Alberto didn’t reply: he sat down again, hesitant while leaning toward the man and looking deeply into his dark eyes, as mysterious as the follow-up to his fantasies. Alberto didn’t dare to kiss him, although, and he pressed his lips against his cheekbone, drawing back with discouragement soon after. Panucci had no choice but grinning.

«Maybe you don’t really want this» Panucci suggested in a conciliatory way and tried to stand up, but Alberto took his hand in his own ones.

«Please, don’t-» he murmured, and Panucci could catch a glimpse of his half-pale, half-crimson face before he started to gaze at the moquette again. «I’m really sorry, sir. I’m just very embarrassed. But I… I would like if… well…»

Panucci freed his own hand from that grasp and rested it on Alberto’s warm jaw. «Do you really want it?»

Alberto nodded; he held his breath when Panucci brushed his thumb onto his wet, even redder lips, releasing it all at once when the finger left a moist trace on his skin.

«You know it has to be a total secret, don’t you?»

« _Please_ , sir» Alberto begged, completely overwhelmed.

Panucci kissed him on the lips, pushing his neck gently toward himself and trying to make Alberto as comfortable as possible; he encouraged the boy to do whatever he liked by stroking his back during the kiss, and he smiled when Alberto hugged him tightly and parted his lips slowly, letting him enter his tongue; soon, Alberto moaned softly and he found himself laying down on the couch on his teacher’s body, his hands crumpling the soft cloth of the man’s shirt, his eyes firmly gazing Panucci’s swollen, wet lips so close to him and yet ready to kiss him again.

«Even first time kissing?» Panucci teased Alberto, making him blush again. «What did I do to deserve this?» he said, but there was a charming, lustful tone in his voice, and Alberto took that as he should have done from the start – he wasn’t the only one having a kink, after all; Alberto leant toward him, kissing him first, and the pleased, responsive reaction of the man suggested he was doing well.

«Now that we broke the ice,» Panucci breathed out, undoing the knot of Alberto’s red tie and running it around his neck, «you won’t need this for a while.» He slid a finger between two buttons of the boy’s shirt, touching the soft skin with the tip of it, and then he whispered: «Do as you wish.»

Alberto trembled in worried expectation: he sat down on top of his teacher, undoing a button of his shirt after the other as slowly as he could and staring at the stripe of naked, tanned skin he just revealed. Panucci smiled as he gently stroked his shoulders and chest without undressing him, sure that Alberto was enjoying every single touch and the tight hold of the hands on his hips. Panucci pushed him a little backwards, making Alberto feel his urging hardon and finding himself even more excited when he saw Alberto biting his lip and bowing the head toward Panucci’s raised knee.

Panucci took Alberto’s hand again and pressed it wide open against his bare chest, at heart height. Alberto couldn’t say if the man wanted him to feel how burning-hot his skin was, or how fast his heart was beating; however, Alberto was convinced that the skin he was stroking was way cooler than his, and the blood wasn’t running as fast as the one raging in his own veins. He felt like he was consumed by desire, and yet he didn’t want that to end so quickly, even if he was reasonably sure they hadn’t so much time left before the lunch signal was given (it was to say, _food_ wasn’t what he was thinking about).

Alberto moaned when Panucci pinched his nipple between the thumb and forefinger: it completely came as a surprise, as Alberto was lost again in his own thoughts, and he tried to remember when Panucci _did_ undress him, leaving him bare-chested, and made him lay down on him again, but in vain. Panucci was caressing his hair with his free hand while still playing with his nipple and the skin around it, and he was rubbing his hips against his one, every movement a little faster than the one before. Alberto moved a finger nearer to his teacher’s nipple, touching him as he was doing, but he soon approached it with his lips, kissing and then biting him, feeling it rough under his tongue. A stifled moan reassured Alberto, who continued to tickle the nipple with the tip of his tongue until Panucci took him by his shoulder and made him sit down again. The man was staring at him in such an intense way that Alberto felt himself being _fucked_ by those eyes, and his own eyes begged him to do so.

«You’ll like it» Panucci said, as if he were swearing it.

He undid Alberto’s belt and invited him to get up and take off his trousers, while he completely undressed himself; the boy felt nearer to madness when Panucci lowered his underwear, showing him his cock, but he didn’t dare to take off his own. Alberto let the man do it for him, though, and it was even worse (... better? Worse. Better.) given how much he felt teased by his slow gestures: his cock had an aching flick.

«You’re so nice, Alberto» Panucci whispered, licking his earlobe: he held his hips again, his erection pressed against him, and looked down his nakedness. The man knew the embarassment of being totally naked with him was almost paralyzing Alberto, and he would do whatever he could to make the boy comfortable, so he dragged him again onto the couch as they were before and continued to kiss him until he felt that Alberto was relaxing in his warm hug. «It’s better now, isn’t it?» he asked, stroking his short hair with his fingers.

«It is, sir» Alberto nodded with the last traces of his contempt, before blushing again. «And...» he babbled and silenced himself, then he took a breath and leant his head on Panucci’s chest, listening to his beating heart. «And you’re very nice, too, sir. I can’t say how much happy I am right now, and I’m sorry to be so inexperienced, causing you t-»

«Shush.» Panucci pressed his thumb against Alberto’s lips, keeping it there until the boy opened his mouth a little: he quickly slid the finger inside and Alberto wrapped his lips around it, touching it gently with his tongue. «Experience comes with education and practice» he declared, smiling as Alberto started sucking his thumb, «but the skill of gifted boys like you is invaluable.»

Alberto let his thumb go with a wet noise. «You make it sound like a pornographic thing, sir» he said, barely breathing as he took two fingers inside his mouth.

«Do I?» Panucci grinned, sliding his fingers even further inside while he started stroking Alberto’s cock slowly; he ignored the stifled moans Alberto made until the boy moved his hips once or twice in a desperate attempt of begging for more, yet enjoying that hard friction. «Calm down, boy» Panucci ordered with a luscious smile, loosening the grip on his cock all at once.

« _Sir_!» Alberto almost screamed with his most imploring voice.

«It seemed you were prone to drag on and fulfill your wet dreams as long as you could. Was I wrong?» Panucci asked, licking his own lips with expectation as Alberto was trying to give voice to his desires. «Well?» he insisted, stroking Alberto’s back and trailing his spine all the way down his spine with his fingers: he forced the boy to lay down on him again, their erections firmly pressed against each other.

«Please, sir» Alberto whispered, almost crying but still kissing, licking and caressing every single inch of skin he managed to reach. « _Fuck me_.»

«That’s a true improvement, trust me» Panucci approved, hugging him again. «Although, we have a problem. You know, Alberto, I’m not used to fuck students here at Sir Matthews.»

«Where do you bring them, then, _sir_?» Alberto said with a smirk.

«I don’t bring – hey, you slut. You’re not trying to make me punish you, are you?»

«Maybe.» He hid his face against Panucci’s chest. « _Please_ , sir, I’m begging you.»

«I was explaining you what’s the matter, boy,» he scolded Alberto. «No lube, no fuck, just half the fun.»

«Not true.»

«Of course it’s not» Panucci confirmed. «But I don’t think it’s wise to go all the way without it» he said, brushing his hand on Alberto’s jaw. «It’s your first time, I want it to be good.»

«It will be good only if you fuck me here and now» Alberto muffled, his cock even harder and ready than before. «I know you can try something, but- _please_.» He panted again. «Do you really like so much to hear me begging for you to fuck me as you wish?»

« _Maybe_ » the man answered, mocking his tune. «Lay down on the couch, but take care of your knee» he added while helping him, and when Alberto did so he raised his legs enough to spread them. Alberto could not hold a satisfied scream when Panucci tickled his opening with the tip of his tongue; he feared someone could have heard him, even if his teacher was still leisurely preparing him and driving him crazy with every gesture – gentle blows, his wet finger, again his tongue licking and sucking as noisily as he could, _twothreedamn_ fingers. Finally, Panucci seemed to think it was enough.

«Still sure of it, baby?» he said, a little worried because Alberto was panting way too heavily; but the boy nodded, confident as he had never been in the last hour, and Panucci soon slid his cock slowly into him, blending his curse to Alberto’s enraptured moan as he found himself completely inside.

«Is it…» Alberto breathed, his eyes squinted as the man tried to thrust inside him again, «is it still so tight, sir?»

Panucci was astonished by his attempt to be casual and polite. «Now who’s the pornstar?» he panted, stroking his cock fast. «Are you aware of how much- _fuck_ » he cursed again, pushing himself even deeper, and Alberto moaned again as the man touched the right spot inside him. «You are a teen bastard and I’ve been waiting for this moment for _ages_.»

«Jeez, it feels like burning alive» Alberto sighed, letting himself go and enjoying the hurting pleasure caused by Panucci’s jogs.

«Hurts?»

«Please,» he asked in a whisper, « _harder_.»

Panucci grinned, and his thrusts became harder and faster as much as his curses became louder and Alberto’s stifled moans increased as well. The boy soon came vehemently into his fingers, and he bit his lower lip and then his fist, trying not to be heard by the whole school. After a few more thrusts, Alberto could feel every drop of the man’s hot pleasure pouring out inside of him, and read his sensations on the swollen lips and the ecstatic look on his face; Alberto felt as if he were coming again, and tried to hug the teacher tightly again.

«It didn’t hurt» he reassured the man, in an attempt to stroke his hair with a hand. Panucci grinned blatantly.

«I was sure of that» he said, licking his own hand with a obscene gesture, making him blush for the umpteenth time. «But you’re so nice when you are shy, naked or lacking protection. In any combination.»

«Is it praise time again, sir?»

«It always helps to hear you did a good job, isn’t it?»

«Fine.» Alberto cleared his voice once or twice. «You’re gorgeous either with clothes on or off, and you made me feel comfortable even if it was my first time ever, and… I liked every single moment of it.»

Panucci smiled again, but it was a less luscious, more pleased way to smile. «You’re kind.»

«And I want to do it again.»

«Now? You’re a kind _whore_ , Alberto.» The man slapped him on the hip. «Put your clothes on, baby. Lunch time is almost ended. If you hurry you could still find some sandwiches.»

«Then _when?_ »

The man sighed, without saying anything. For a moment, he’d hoped Alberto wouldn’t ask that question, because it would have made their situation easier: a one-afternoon-stand with a student wasn’t as remotely dangerous as a regular relationship, and yet he could already figure himself tying up the boy in a king-sized bed with his own red tie. _Hotter than any porn movie_.

«You could take miserable marks in History at the midterm tests, and I would punish you with extra lessons» he suggested lightly, and Alberto folded his arms with a deathly glare. «Or you could exceed any expectations of ours, so the Headmaster should reward you with a brass medal and private lessons in your favorite subjects.»

«My favorite subject is P.E., sir» Alberto laughed, kissing him on the neck. «As everyone in this school, isn’t it?»

«Correct. But I expect you to change your mind soon» Panucci smirked.

  


##### fin

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:**  
>  \- Sir Stanley Matthews ( _The Magician_ , _The Wizard of the Dribble_ ), died in 2000, was one of the greatest players of the English game; he won the first Ballon d'Or trophy and he is the only player to have been knighted while still playing. ([More info](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanley_Matthews))  
> \- Robert Frederick Chelsea "Bobby" Moore, died in 1993, was another great English player, captain of his national team at the World Cup 1966, won by England. [More info](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bobby_Moore))  
> \- Paloschi's schoolmates mentioned in this fan fiction are Mario Balotelli, Diego Fabbrini, Davide Santon, Andrea Seculin. There are other people in their year, obv. *angel*  
> \- Title comes from the song of Dire Straits.


End file.
